


nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger



Series: i'll be coming for your love (okay?) [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Tapes, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: Billy blinks, and then Steve is just there, in the corners of his vision. Half naked, swaying to the music.The room isn’t big and it’s kinda shitty, but when they got there, Steve painted one of the walls black. The streetlights coming in from outside illuminate Steve against the darkness of the wall as he moves, lazily moving to the beat, and Billy’s looking at art. A fucking masterpiece.





	nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Note from toastranger: this one is my favorite, fyi

It’s not that Billy’s had a  _ bad _ day, but he  _ has _ had a long day, and sometimes, that’s kinda worse.

He’s got nothing to blame the crawling, itching feeling inside him on, except for  _ himself _ \-- for pushing himself too hard, for trying to cram too much into a day, for not being able to  _ cope _ with it.

Thing is, since Billy stopped getting into fights, since he stopped casually sleeping around at nameless bars, he’s got no real  _ outlet _ . Which means he’s just stuck, feeling cooped up inside his own skin, feeling like he’s gonna spontaneously combust at any given moment.

But it’s not  _ all _ bad.

Because at least he has Steve to come home to.

Because tonight, by the time Steve got back from the grocery store, Billy was already well on his way to being well and truly  _ fucked _ , sprawled out on Steve’s bed, getting his room all cloudy with smoke and his sheets all covered in Billy.

Billy’s got one of Steve’s playlists coming in from Steve’s laptop, funneled loud through this kinda  _ nice _ speaker Steve’s got. It’s much better for listening to music than anything Billy’s got.

_ “Home _ ,” Steve says, from what sounds like the kitchen. 

“Uh huh,” Billy says, eyes glazing on the popcorn ceiling. 

Drifting. Smoking. Drifting some more. 

Billy blinks, and then Steve is just  _ there _ , in the corners of his vision. Half naked, swaying to the music. 

The room isn’t  _ big _ and it’s kinda shitty, but when they got there, Steve painted one of the walls black. The streetlights coming in from outside illuminate Steve against the darkness of the wall as he moves, lazily moving to the beat, and Billy’s looking at  _ art _ . A fucking  _ masterpiece _ .

Steve's all pale skin, all long fucking lines, all compact and graceful and _ gorgeous _ . Billy's  _ always _ thought so. Steve's always been _ pretty boy _ . Even back when they used to hate each other.

He's undressing, Billy realizes, his shoes gone and his shirt off and his pants undone. Changing maybe, has sweat on his skin, probably from being outside in the heat. 

“ _ Baby _ ,” Billy says, but not too loud. Probably not even loud enough for Steve to  _ hear _ over the thud of the music.

Steve stops at his jeans, though. Keeps them on, but unbuttoned, so they slouch low and loose around his hips as he sways. It had surprised Billy, at first, to learn that Steve could dance. That he could pick up the beat to a song and move so naturally to it. Like the music’s flowing through him. Billy’s got rhythm, but he can’t dance in the same effortless way Steve can. Isn’t nearly as appealing to watch as Steve.

Billy feels blessed, to be able to watch Steve like this, to be able to drink him in like this. All loose lines and easy movements and a body to die for.

Steve turns to him, smile slow, and pads over, feet bare and pale and vulnerable against the carpet, and Billy _ watches _ as he crawls up onto the bed, dragging on a half dead blunt as Steve hovers. Eyes warm, hand warmer, against Billy's belly when he places it against his abdomen. 

He leans down when Billy finishes pulling, and kisses the smoke out of his mouth. 

Billy gets a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, keeping him close. Because he suddenly can’t bear to be  _ not touching _ Steve right now.

The smoke eventually comes out a curtain between the two of them, blurring Steve’s image right in front of him. So Billy lets his eyes drift out of focus, too, and kisses Steve again. Lazy, slow. Savoring it.

“You look baked, baby.” Steve tells him, kissing along his cheek, humming a little to the music. “Long day? Want me to make it better?”

“I'm  _ so _ fucking high,” Billy says, because he is, because it's kinda  _ funny _ . “You always make it better,” he says, because it's not a lie. 

Steve does it without even  _ trying.   _

Steve laughs a little. “I got you rocky road.”

“I'll rock  _ your  _ road,” Billy says, but yeah, he's kinda  _ hungry.  _

But he also doesn't want to get up, doesn't wanna move away from Steve. 

Steve hums, kissing his ear, all warm skin radiating down from above him. “You always  _ do _ , baby.”

Billy feels all that heat seeping out of Steve and into himself, catching fire in his gut, igniting all the dry and dead things there. 

“God, you're so  _ much _ ,” Billy says, and he feels like he might explode with all this heat, all this  _ longing _ . “You're the fucking  _ best _ .”

Steve pulls back, eyes narrowed on his face, but grin crooked and pleased. “You really _ are _ high.”

And then he's pulling back, sliding off the bed, moving over to the speaker and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Hijacking the bluetooth signal for himself. Puts on something _ slower _ .   _ Sultry. _

“This was on  _ your _ playlist, baby,” Billy says, but he's not  _ complaining _ , because he fucking loves this song.

And what he loves even more? The way Steve  _ moves _ to it, swaying and mouthing the words. 

Billy sprawls out a little more on the bed and looks up at Steve. “You've got a pretty mouth. You've got a pretty  _ everything.” _

Steve's right, Billy  _ is _ high. 

“You think I'm  _ pretty _ ?” Steve asks, eyes all wide,  _ as if _ he _ doesn't know _ . 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Billy says, his fingertips trailing over the sheets because Steve's too far away to touch. “I think you're the prettiest damn thing in the world, baby.”

Steve goes to his knees on the carpet, shuffles closer to the edge of the bed, takes Billy's wrist in hand and guides it. Brings the blunt Billy's got pinched between his fingers to his lips, pulls long and slow and holds, eyes locked with Billy's. Blows out smoke between them.

“I don't know about _ that _ ,” Steve says. 

There's something about the action that feels  _ intimate _ , but Steve's just  _ like _ that. Everything with him feels like a little bit  _ too much, _ like it's perfect. So addictive that Billy just can't get enough. 

There's something about watching Steve smoke  _ from _ Billy's hand that's got Billy all twisted up inside. 

“I'm damn fucking positive you are,” Billy says, and offers Steve the joint again. “Do that again.”

It's more of a question than an order, though. Like Billy can't believe he could be so  _ lucky _ . 

Steve does, doesn't even hesitate, drags from Billy's fingertips, lips pressed there, warm and so damn inviting. Hisses out smoke as he pulls away, head lulling and swaying on his knees, eyes heavy and half lidded as he licks his lips. 

Sometimes Billy has trouble, reconciling the pretty, perfect rich boy from high school with the guy on his knees in front of him. Struggles to wrap his head around the idea that Steve and him coulda been doing this for _ forever _ and they _ haven't _ and it _ could stop at any time _ . 

Billy gets his hand on his phone. Opens the camera app, slides it to video, and hits record. 

“Again?” 

This time it  _ is  _ a question. 

Steve blinks at him, a little lazy, a little slow, and then he _ smiles _ . “Anything you want, baby.”

And then he's taking another hit, smaller than the others, but lingering with his lips to Billy's fingertips. Blows smoke into the camera when he breathes out. 

Billy  _ knows _ he's gonna watch that video again, for  _ hours and hours _ . If it was a tape, he’d watch it till it wore out. As it is, he might imprint the image straight into his brain, stuck on a loop. 

Billy takes one last hit of the blunt, then offers the remainder to Steve, still holding the camera on him. Still recording. 

_ Anything you want _ , Steve had said. Billy thinks he probably gonna  _ die _ because Steve’s gonna kill him with how perfect he is. 

Steve plucks it from his fingertips, sucks the last of the thick, dank smoke into his mouth and holds it there. Stamps out the blunt in the ashtray on his bedside table, then crooks his finger and leans up, snatching the camera and tapping the screen to catch the both of them in frame as Steve tilts his head to catch Billy's mouth.

Billy breathes the smoke out of Steve's mouth, kissing him as he inhales, greedy. He doesn't give a shit what he looks like, which is probably just clumsy and high, because he  _ knows  _ Steve looks beautiful, and that's the point. 

That Billy can have this video whenever he wants. Even when all of this is over. 

Eventually, he has to pull back, has to let the smoke out of his own lungs. He runs his tongue over Steve's lips when he does, then just fucking  _ grins _ at the camera. 

Steve frowns, practically _ pouts,  _ reaches up and grips Billy's jaw in his hand. “ _ Hey _ .  _ Focus _ , baby.”

And then he kisses him again, tongue sliding past his teeth. 

Billy  _ groans _ into Steve's mouth as Steve's grip, his fingers, his  _ tongue _ all drag Billy back into the moment. 

He feels like he's floating. It's  _ great _ . 

“God,” Billy says against Steve's lips. “Such a pretty mouth.”

He pulls back just enough so that he can  _ look _ , thumb pulling over Steve's bottom lip.  Steve relaxes into it, lips parting, letting Billy see his teeth, his tongue, the wet heat of his mouth. 

Steve _ sighs _ , breathy and perfect and sweet. 

It's indulgent. A little obscene. A little _ filthy _ with _ promise _ . 

“Lemme see the phone, baby,” Billy says, and his words string together a little bit like honey. Sweet and syrupy. 

Steve gives it to him without any fuss. Braces his hands on the side of the bed, eyes on Billy's face.

Billy shifts a little. Flops onto his stomach so he's got a really great view of Steve's mouth. Props himself up on his elbow, phone in that hand. 

He hits  _ stop _ , so he can make this a new video entirely. 

“Sokay?” Billy asks, because he probably  _ should _ \-- but he doesn't tell Steve what he's gonna  _ do _ . 

Steve nods, eyes a little glazed over, fingers flexing over his comforter. 

Billy hits  _ record _ and lets the video focus on Steve's face. Gets a real good look at him, long enough that he gets Steve pouting from being ignored. 

“Patience, baby,” Billy says, and then his fingers are running over Steve's lips, slow, making sure he's got it all in the picture. 

Steve _ shudders _ , lips parted and breath hot against his fingertips. There's a hint of tongue, of Steve licking at Billy's fingers, taunting and teasing him with it. 

“So damn pretty,” Billy says, voice low.

Steve’s tongue is so  _ hot _ and wet against Billy’s fingertips. Billy can’t  _ help _ but push past Steve’s lips to let his forefinger and middle finger slide over the slick muscle of Steve’s tongue. Invading his mouth, nice and slow. 

Steve lets out a muffled sound, a  _ moan _ , and his tongue presses up against Billy's fingers, his jaw goes  _ loose _ .  He lets Billy slide his fingers that much deeper. His mouth is hot and _ so wet _ and  _ so perfect.  _

It’s a little gross, just how slick Steve’s mouth makes Billy’s fingers, like Steve’s drooling for it, gagging for more. Billy lets his fingers slide over Steve’s tongue, over his teeth, goes a little deep, until Steve goes a little tense, a little more careful. He lets Billy  _ own _ his mouth, just lets Billy  _ take _ . 

His eyes flutter when Billy presses in. His throat works. He makes another sound. Higher. Breathless. 

And when Billy draws his fingers back out, he rubs spit slick fingertips to Steve's lower lip, and Steve  _ lets him _ . 

Billy just plays with him. Like a  _ toy _ .

Hell, he forgets he’s even holding the camera, just hyper-fixated on the task at hand, and eventually has to check to make sure he’s actually getting Steve’s  _ face _ in the shot. 

“Suck,” Billy says, after a little while, after he has Steve panting, wet and loose, around fingers.

And Steve  _ does.  _ Wraps his lips around Billy's fingers, hollows his cheeks, and  _ sucks _ . Like he was  _ made _ for it. 

Billy’s pretty sure he’s never gonna need to watch another porno in his  _ life _ , because he’s now got  _ this _ on his phone, in his brain, forever.

“Holy fuck, baby,  _ yeah _ you’re so good,” Billy says, curling his fingers a little so he can press down against Steve’s tongue, so he can feel the way Steve’s mouth moves around him even  _ more _ . 

Steve moans, low and long and keening. Moves his tongue in a damn near sinful way, in a way Billy _ knows  _ would have him coming undone, if it was his cock in Steve's mouth instead of his fingers. 

And  _ yeah _ , he  _ could _ pull his fingers out of Steve’s mouth and get his dick in there -- but he kinda doesn’t  _ want  _ to.

He’s  _ really _ high, and this both  _ looks _ and  _ feels _ really good. And Billy’s so damn focused on it he doesn’t even really  _ consider _ anything else. 

Like, he could die like this and be happy about it, he thinks.

“So pretty,” Billy murmurs.

He pulls his fingers a little further out of Steve’s mouth and then presses them back in. He debates adding another finger, toys with the idea as he toys with Steve’s bottom lip, dripping spit down his chin, and eventually decides on  _ yes _ . Obviously, yes. So he pushes three fingers into Steve’s mouth slowly, admiring the way Steve opens up so  _ wide _ . 

Steve makes another sound. It's a little desperate, a little _ whiny _ . Billy sinks his fingers deeper and Steve's eyes roll back for a second. 

Billy nearly  _ chokes _ with how good it is. How hot Steve is. It's such a punch of electricity to his gut that Billy thinks he could probably lose it right then and there, if he thought hard about it enough.  

But, like, that's not even his  _ goal _ . He's not even sure he  _ has  _ a goal -- just this. This moment, forever. 

“Donno what to do with you,” Billy says after a long while, after losing himself to the sounds of Steve's noises, the feeling of his fingers sliding over Steve's tongue. 

Steve's eyes are dark and focused when he blinks. He stops sucking, just pants as Billy thrusts his fingers past his lips, fingers curling and uncurling in the comforter like he wants to get his hands on Billy. 

Billy slowly eases his fingers out. Lets them drip a little onto the ground. Gives Steve time to pant, open-mouthed at him. Then, he traces Steve's bottom lip with his pointer finger. 

“What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want. I'd give you anything,” Billy says. 

And  _ shit _ he's so high, he totally means it. He'd give Steve the whole world. 

Steve _ looks  _ at him, just as dazed, maybe just as high. “Kiss me.”

And so Billy does. But first, he drops the phone, clumsily hitting the  _ record _ button again, just so he doesn't have to  _ deal _ with it. 

Because Billy leans forward, half off the bed, and gets his hands on Steve's face, holding him steady -- or perhaps, holding  _ himself  _ steady -- and then Billy kisses him. Slow and messy, unhurried and indulgent. 

Steve meets him. Rising up on his knees a little, panting into his mouth, hands fumbling as they come up to grip Billy's wrists. 

His mouth is so  _ wet _ . So wet and  _ open _ . Tongue lazy as it glides against Billy's.

And it's somehow like Billy  _ did  _ this. Like he opened up and stretched Steve's mouth just for him. His fingers splay over Steve's cheeks, grazing over his ear, his jaw, his everything as Billy kisses him. 

As Billy  _ claims _ him. 

Steve doesn't pull back until Billy does. His jaw is slack, breath heavy, and he _ whines _ when Billy's mouth is no longer pressed to his. 

Billy kinda wishes he'd caught _ that _ on camera, too. Kinda wants to get _ all of him _ on camera. 

But he's way too high to try and  _ articulate _ that.

Instead, Billy pulls back all the way and rolls into his back. 

“C’mere, baby,” he says, arm falling off the side of the bed to paw at Steve. 

Steve crawls up with him, tucks into his side, face tucking against his throat. 

“Hi,” Billy says, reveling in the weight of Steve pressing him down against the bed. “I'm so fucking high, baby.  _ So _ fucking high.”

Billy's fingers find their way into Steve's hair, combing through it, tangling in it. He just wants to  _ touch _ , to indulge. 

Steve hums, kissing at his pulse, up to his jaw. Sinks his teeth in there. 

“I  _ like _ it when you're high,” Steve tells him. “You're like a big _ cat _ .”

Billy just goes a little loose under Steve, under his teeth. 

He kinda  _ likes _ that description. A big cat. He can't help but grin. 

“Jesus, baby,” Billy says. “You're too good.”

Steve hums again, mouthing along his jaw to his ear, voice low and teeth teasing. “Not always.”

“Fuckin’  _ always _ ,” Billy promises him, voice going a little breathy, a little light. 

Steve's mouth is  _ distracting _ . 

“Nuh uh,” Steve denies, kissing along his cheek, a hand splaying back out over his belly. “In fact, I'm _ rarely _ good with you.”

Billy just goes boneless against the bed. He  _ melts _ . He can feel each muscle as it relaxes, can feel the way he starts sinking into the mattress underneath Steve’s warm hand. 

“But like, even when you’re  _ not _ good, you’re  _ so _ good,” Billy says. “Too good,” he repeats. “How’d I get so fucking  _ lucky _ ?”

Steve catches his mouth, hums against his lips, and pushes his hand up under Billy's shirt to get at skin. When he pulls back, they're both breathless. 

“The tongue thing,” Steve says. “That cocky little-- y'know  _ grin _ , like you were always _ daring  _ me.”

“Wasn’t I?” Billy asks.

And then he’s pulling back a little bit, squirming around underneath Steve, wriggling out of his shirt just so that he can more of Steve’s hands on him. So fucking greedy for more. 

Steve grins down at him. His hands slip up his sides, fingers on the ladder of his ribs, and he dips down to press his mouth to Billy's chest, to his racing heart. 

Billy feels like he’s on burning up, like Steve’s lips are lighting individual fires inside him. Stoking them with every kiss, fueling them with each brush of his hands.

“Gonna  _ keep _ you, baby,” Billy says. “Gonna watch that video again and again and  _ again _ .”

Steve _ groans _ , and when Billy looks, his face and his ears and his neck are red and he's _ hard _ . He seems to sink his teeth in around Billy's nipple in retaliation.

“Can never get enough of that pretty mouth,” Billy says, breath hard, dick just as hard too. 

Billy  _ squirms _ . Steve moves to his other nipple. He squirms some  _ more _ .

Steve's hand snakes down between them. His fingers wiggle under the waistband of Billy's sweats and wrap around him and _ squeeze _ . 

He looks up at Billy through dark lashes with darker eyes. 

“If you wanted to make a sex tape, baby, all you had to do was _ ask.” _

And Billy just chuckles a little. Gasps with it, considering Steve’s hand is around him, distracting.

“God, why you tryin’ to  _ kill _ me, baby?” Billy asks, hips bucking up, hands sliding over Steve’s back.

“Not trying to _ kill you _ ,” Steve huffs, stroking  _ slow _ . “Just trying to give you a little…  _ inspiration _ .”

“Jesus, Steve, you don’t gotta give me inspiration. Not when I think about you  _ all _ the time.”

And it’s  _ true _ though, that’s the crazy part of it. Steve’s on Billy’s mind, like, all the time. And it’s just not  _ fair _ .

“Yeah?” Steve asks, still stroking  _ so slow _ , kissing along his jaw again. “And what do you think about?”

“Aw, that's not fair,” Billy manages, breathing out rough. His hips roll slowly, like he wants  _ more _ , but he likes this too much to  _ change _ it. “So much. Jesus, I think about so much.”

Because he thinks about it  _ all _ . But he knows he can't  _ say _ that. Can't tell Steve just how much Billy is  _ into _ him. And he's so high he  _ would _ . 

So he takes Steve's face in his hands and hauls him into a long, messy kiss. Just to shut himself up.

Steve moans, mouth opening for him, pressing down against him. Keeps his hand slow, his touch loose. Draws the pleasure out. 

Billy grunts, tugging at Steve’s pants, and then his own, rather uselessly.

“Wanna get our clothes off. Wanna be right up against you. C’mon.”

He wants to be so close to Steve, nothing at all keeping them apart. 

Steve pulls back, slides off his bed, and plucks up Billy's phone. He points it at him, eyes on the screen, and then glances over the top edge, gaze bright and daring. 

“Strip for me, baby.”

“You expect me to  _ do _ what you want?” Billy asks, with a lazy grin. “So  _ bossy _ .”

He doesn’t get up.

But he  _ does _ run his hands down his own bare chest, touching, running his palms over toned planes of flesh, taking his  _ time _ with it until he gets to his pants. He dips his thumbs underneath the elastic and tugs a little bit, down, exposing his happy trail to Steve, watching himself. Then, he turns to Steve with a wide, wide grin. 

“What, you like what you see, baby?”

“I'd like it _ better _ if you just showed me the goods, Hargrove.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Billy asks, eyes going all hazy. 

He does it again, but goes a little further this time. Catches his dick under the waistband and lets it  _ pull _ . Giving Steve a nice view of his groin. 

Steve huffs, but he's grinning. “ _ Tease _ .”

“You  _ like _ it,” Billy says. “Now ask me again, real pretty, baby.”

Steve glances up from the phone again. Meets Billy's eyes, and the heat there-- the _ hunger _ \-- makes his breath stall in his chest. 

“Please, baby?” Steve asks, voice a hush of want. “Lemme see you? Please?”

And well -- Billy’s got no choice but to give Steve what he wants.

He teases for just a moment longer. Then, he starts working the sweats down his hips, until his cock springs free, bobbing there in the still, smoky air of the room. Billy’s sexy about it until he’s not, giving up to kick the pants free to the edge of the bed. Then, he stretches, long and lanky, eyes still on Steve.

“Pretty enough for you?” Billy asks. 

Steve doesn't reply for a second. Too busy staring, taking him in, eyes burning wherever touch. 

“Gorgeous, baby.” Steve says, carefully placing the phone on the nightstand before kneeling up onto the edge of the bed at Billy's side, dropping a kiss to his hip. “So gorgeous.”

Billy hums, content like the big cat Steve said he was. 

“What, not gonna record any more?” Billy teases -- but he doesn’t really  _ care _ , because the only records Billy  _ really _ wants are of Steve. Not of Billy. He doesn’t need any more concrete evidence of just what exactly Billy would  _ do _ for Steve. 

Steve glances up at him and then over at the phone, still precariously propped on the bedside table, grin sly and slow. “I didn't say that.”

Billy reaches out and thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drags over it real slow. 

“You’re much prettier on camera than me, baby,” Billy says. “Don’t need videos of my  _ own _ face. Or my body.”

“But it's not just you,” Steve says, head lulling, leaning into his touch, eyes fluttering. “It's  _ us _ .”

“True,” Billy says, letting his fingers slip a little bit. Until his pointer finger slides a little bit, dipping into Steve’s mouth, over his tongue. So wet, so slick. “Guess that’s real true. Sounds like a lotta  _ work _ , though. And I’m not all that  _ focused _ .”

Steve grazes his teeth against the pad of his fingertip as he withdraws. “I'll do _ all the work _ , baby. You just gotta tell me what you _ want _ . What you want to _ see _ .”

And Billy knows he means what he wants, saved on that phone, for him to watch later. Over and over. 

Billy glances at it, on the little camera still pointed right at them. And then he  _ grins _ .

Sticks his own finger in his mouth, licking Steve’s spit right off of it, lips around it obscenely. 

“Want your mouth on me. Want you to work me over nice and slow. Wanna come down your throat.”

Steve stares at him, eyes still _ so dark _ , and he nods. “Whatever you want, baby.”

And then his kissing across the soft, lower belly below his navel, hands gripping at Billy's hips. 

“Just you, baby,” Billy says. “All I want is you.”

Billy can barely  _ breathe _ with the way Steve is kissing on him, so ramped up and so relaxed at the same time. It’s like an endless dream. A perfect one. Billy’s fingers tangle in his hair, not quite urging, but certainly  _ inviting. _

Steve moans. Presses his tongue to that sensitive skin and takes Billy's cock in hand before dipping down just enough to take him in his mouth. 

He's just as wet, just as welcoming, as when Billy had slid his fingers past his lips. Hot and perfect, taking him in and _ swallowing _ , not giving Billy a _ second _ to adjust to the sudden rush of pleasure. 

Billy  _ groans _ , loud. He knows he’ll probably be embarrassed to watch that again on playback, but he can’t  _ help _ it -- Steve’s just so good. So warm, so slick, so  _ skilled  _ with his tongue.

It’s all Billy can do to not buck upward into that heat instantly -- because he said himself: he wants it to be slow, wants to savor it. “ _ Baby _ ,” Billy groans, fingers going tight. 

There's a muffled sound, a soft  _ moan _ , and Billy _ feels it _ thrum across his nerves. 

Then Steve pulls off, slow. 

Billy  _ whines _ , and man he’s gonna regret  _ that _ later, too. Maybe he can cut out all of his stupid noises and just keep the parts of the recording where Steve’s looking up at him with those big pretty eyes of his, spit making his lower lip shine in the dim light of the room. He looks so  _ pretty _ , like a goddamn painting, hazy and soft and touchable like this. He’s a gift, just for Billy, and in this moment Billy can’t help but feel so  _ lucky _ , so truly and absolutely blessed.

He runs his finger along Steve’s bottom lip, touch light. Then, gets his fingers around his dick and runs the head of it over Steve’s lower lip, too. And even that small touch feels so good, so perfect.

Steve breathes heavy and hot against him, against sensitive skin, against the head of him. He waits, mouth open, tongue peeking out as Billy  _ stares _ .  As he takes his fill of Steve waiting and wanting for him. 

Then when Billy tugs at his hair, he takes him in his mouth again, wraps his lips around him and sucks. Just like he had with Billy's fingers. 

Billy’s breath rattles in his chest, in between his ribs. He shakes with the pleasure of it, the overload of sensation.

He wants to keep this moment for forever.

So he gets his fingers in Steve’s hair and pulls him up a little. Gets it so Steve’s lips are right on the head of him, so Steve can play with him with his tongue. And it’s a  _ nice _ tongue at that. Pretty and pink, dextrous and skilled. 

Then, he slides in again, nice and slow, urging Steve down and down, until Steve’s got him nearly swallowed.

Steve lets out a muffled sound. Billy can feel the way his throat protests and then the way Steve chokes past it, groaning, eyes tearing a little as he  _ takes it _ . 

Obscene in the most gorgeous way Billy's ever _ seen _ . 

Billy almost comes right there, just at that. At how  _ easy _ Steve is. How willing.

“Baby,  _ baby _ ,” Billy says, fingers carding through Steve’s hair for a moment, just  _ savoring _ it. “You’re so fucking  _ good _ .”

Steve lets out a breathless, small sound from around him. He squeezes at Billy's hips, thumbs digging in, and swallows around him again. Then _ again _ . 

Billy can’t. He yanks a little at Steve’s hair, pulling him off. He can’t  _ yet _ . Right? 

“Steve,” Billy warns, “C’mon. Ya gotta stop being so  _ good _ . ‘S too much. Too much.”

Steve pulls back panting, mouth open, eyes wet. He keeps a hand around the base of him, the head of Billy's cock resting against the curve of Steve's lower lip. 

“Wanna come all over your pretty face,” Billy says, voice rough, breathing heavy. 

And he  _ does _ .  He wants to watch Steve’s face get coated in Billy’s come, wants to  _ claim _ him like that. Wants to watch Steve lick it all off of his lips, hungrily. He wants to be the one to thumb it off of Steve’s face and feed it to him. Wants Steve to suck it off his fingers. 

The tips of Steve's ears go pink. 

“Do it,” he says, and then takes him into his mouth, stroking over him. 

Billy doesn't ask him if he's sure. The way Steve's sucking on his cock is truth enough. 

Steve's mouth takes him in, tongue flicking over Billy's head as his hand works the shaft over. Like he knows  _ just _ how to bring Billy close to the edge, just how to get him off in seconds, if he wants to. 

And Billy can't last, with Steve like this. With the promise of Steve's face painted in Billy's come. 

It builds until Billy's fingers tighten in Steve's hair, until Billy's panting, moaning -- until he's fumbling his hand down to replace Steve's on his cock. With his other hand he urges Steve back, until Billy's jacking himself off against Steve's lips. 

It the  _ look _ on Steve's face that gets him, though. Eyes dark, pretty pink lips parted for Billy, with just a hint of a spit slick tongue between them. 

Billy chokes on his moan when he comes, thick stripes of come hitting Steve's lips, his chin, his cheeks. Body going tight, vision going white. 

And Steve-- Steve _ doesn't _ disappoint. 

He licks his lower lip with a messy swipe of his tongue. Licks at the head of Billy's cock, too. Cleans him up, face a mess, breathing hard and  _ whining  _ when Billy pulls at his hair. 

“C’mere,” Billy says, tugging Steve up his body. “Lemme look at you.” He can barely  _ breathe _ , Steve's so beautiful. 

Steve does. Still hard, still covered in Billy's come, he crawls up under Billy's coaxing to let him _ see _ . 

“ _ Billy _ ,” he breathes, flush and lovely. 

Billy pulls Steve up so he's straddling Billy and gets a hand on Steve's cock, unwilling to wait, needing the sound of Steve going breathless. 

Then, he drags his fingers through the mess on Steve's face --  _ his _ mess -- and presses those fingers to Steve's lips, wordlessly. Reverently silent. 

Rocking into his touch, Steve moans, mouth opening for him. He ruts like he's _ riding him,  _ sucks on his fingers, tonguing between them, and clutching at both of Billy's wrists. 

Steve feels so close to Billy like this, so connected with the way he's clutching onto Billy for dear life. 

“So good,” Billy tells him, pulling his fingers out to catch more come and feed it into Steve's mouth, to be lapped af by that sinful tongue. “So good for me.”

Steve _ whines _ again. His eyes roll back when Billy dips his fingers deeper, and bucks sharply into his hand.  His fingers curl, nails biting blunt at his wrists, flush and sweating and writhing for him. 

He's perfect. Letting Billy _ do this _ . Letting Billy _ have this _ , forever.

Billy's heartbeat skips at the idea-- that idea that he'll get to watch this again and again and  _ again _ . 

It's what has him stroking Steve a little faster, what has him thumbing over Steve's cheek to push his thumb into Steve's mouth. When Steve's lips close around it and he  _ sucks _ , like a goddamn popsicle, Billy  _ curses _ , a wave of pleasure hitting him again. 

“Look at you, baby,” Billy says, thumb pressing down on Steve's tongue, his other hand keeping up a steady rhythm. “You're fucking  _ perfect _ for me.”

The noises Steve makes are always a delight. But now they pitch higher, with a keen kind of desperation, breathy whimpers catching in his mouth as he fucks into Billy's hand, as he curls his tongue around Billy's thumb.

His thighs are trembling, his abdomen tight, and Billy  _ knows _ how close he is. Knows that he's clinging to the edge, riding the high, shaking with it. 

When Steve finally comes for him, it's a near explosive thing. He jerks, spilling out over Billy's hand and his stomach. He nearly bites down on Billy's thumb, whining long and high from around him, as Billy strokes him through it. 

His face, through it all, is fucking beautiful, Billy thinks. 

Despite the mess, Billy doesn't think much of pulling Steve down into a kiss while he's still shaking, Billy easing him through the last of it. 

Steve tastes like smoke and come, and Billy kisses him till he's breathless, till he can't feel his tongue. 

Eventually, Steve pulls away to gasp in a breath. He's breathing so _ hard _ , shuddering a little, but his nose wrinkles up a little as he shifts against him. 

“ _ Gross,  _ Billy.” He mumbles, but he doesn't move to pull away. “You _ know _ I hate making a mess.”

“Yeah,” Billy says, as he runs his fingers over Steve's lips. Still too high, still touching. “Course I know. Know so many things about you.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes against his fingertips and then nips at them. “You do.”

Goosebumps cascade down Billy's spine when Steve's teeth graze him. 

“Uh huh. And I know you  _ love _ when I make you a mess because then we get to shower.”

Which is -- yeah, okay, maybe it's Billy's thing, but Steve always seems to  _ enjoy  _ it. He seems to like it when Billy washes him off afterwards with careful hands. 

Steve shifts against him again leaning into his open palm, letting his head rest there. “You're still all elbows.”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “But you  _ love _ my elbows.”

His voice is lazy, dopey, sleepy. He could probably fall asleep right now, Steve draped over him in a mess of his own come. No shower, just this. Just Steve and the moment. 

Steve is quiet for a while, just resting against him, head on his chest, body and warm weight-- and Billy thinks he almost imagines it. Steve's next words. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Billy’s half asleep when he hears it. Thinks maybe he’s dreaming, but loops his arms tighter around Steve nonetheless,  _ content, _ lips pulling up into a half-smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs and shit:  
> Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby - Cigarettes After Sex  
> Use Me Up - Until the Ribbon Breaks
> 
> Gangsta - Kehlani
> 
> Gooey - glass animals
> 
> Doesn't matter - gallant
> 
> Affection - cigarettes after sex


End file.
